Page 337 of Rock Me All Night
Without instructions, Tom slides his hand down his torso. Like he's going to start touching himself.
Deep breath. This is normal boudoir stuff. If I can't handle it, then I won't hack it with actual clients.
God, he's sexy. A natural.Click, click, click. His hand skims the waistband of his jeans.Click, click, click.
His hand is on the waistband of his jeans. The button.
I can't take it anymore.
I clear my throat as I set my camera down. "Maybe try a few sitting up."
He smirks, his eyes catching mine as he sits up straight. He knows how badly I want him. It's written all over his face.
Still, he is an accommodating model. He messes around on the bed. Copies half a dozen men's magazine glamour model poses. Kneeling. On all fours. Sticking his ass in the air.
"That better?" he asks.
I laugh. "You're better at being sexy."
"Am I?" He cocks a brow.
"You know you're sexy. Don't pretend otherwise." Thank goodness for my camera. I could never, in a million years, say anything this potentially embarrassing without the photography equipment shielding me. "Give me a few more. Be yourself."
He does. He shifts back on the bed. Oh lord. He unzips his jeans. Slides them off his hips. To his knees. His feet. He leans back, over the edge of the bed.
Oh, shit. "Tom, you're going to fall."
He does fall. With quite the thud. I bite my lip, bracing myself for a bad reaction.
But he jumps to his feet and laughs it off. He's a little scraped, but it's no big deal.
I set my camera down. "Are you okay?"
He nods to his scraped knee. "Occupational hazard."
He's effortless about everything. It must be nice to take life in stride. To be fearless.
I look back at Tom. "Those are great. I should have plenty."
"Let me see."
"After I edit them." And after a cold shower. "You're a good model."
"I know." He gets back into his clothes and walks to the door. His voice gets serious. "You can tell me tomorrow. About what it is you're running from."
Oh. That. I nod despite the dread forming in my gut. "Goodnight."
"Sweet dreams, kid."
The heavy door slams into the frame.
I plug my computer into the wall and get to uploading the images. The slow progress bar gives my thoughts time to sink in. They're heavy enough to weigh me down.
My first priority is getting far away from Bradley. Done. For now. My second is getting this application in. If I get the job, I'll move into a nice building with security and front gates that lock. If I don't get the job, well, I'll figure out something less depressing than crashing in my brother's spare room until the end of time.
One day, when I'm good enough, I'll open my own studio. I'll get magazine assignments. Editorials. Portraits. Beautiful photos that are packed with personality. I can fill in the gaps with headshots and boudoir.
Finally, the photos finish uploading. I go over them one by one. In every single shot, Tom is relaxed, confident, hot as the molten center of the Earth. It must be nice being that comfortable with yourself, your sexuality. Knowing how badly everyone wants you.
